Never Enough
by missmelly
Summary: One-off impressions based on my SVM trilogy; sometimes Bill puts words in my head. Bill, Sookie, and Eric are the sole property of Charlaine Harris and her publishers.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: thank you for your interest in my Bill and Sookie romances. Since you've been so stalwart, here's a little something extra, just for you!

* * *

I was working on my notes from a session with The Twins (currently my most difficult clients: born twins in Japan, they were now vampires that intensely disliked each other but couldn't tolerate being apart for long), when I heard Bill downstairs say, "Sweetheart?"

"In my office," I responded at normal volume; vamps had excellent hearing, so we didn't do a lot of shouting in our house. Unless we got angry with each other. Which didn't happen that often. But when it did, boy, could things get loud!

I was so caught up in my writing that when Bill appeared at my shoulder, I actually jumped. "Goddammit, Bill! You know I hate it when you do that!" After 30-some years of being with Bill, this was more a stock response than a genuine one, but I loved how he always looked instantly humbled.

He stood behind me, rubbing my shoulders and back in a soothing gesture to calm me. I kept typing. He gently pulled out the band holding my ponytail, letting my hair spill down my back. He sank his fingers in, pulling them through my hair, fluffing it up. "Mmmm," I murmured, but I kept on typing.

Bill lifted my hair up from my neck and I felt his cool lips nibbling my nape; I shivered, but I kept typing.

Bill's talented hands slipped down the front of my shirt, softly caressing the tops of my breasts above the lace border of my bra. I let out a tiny gasp, but I kept on typing. His long fingers wiggled inside my bra, and finding my nipples already crinkled in anticipation, he gave them careful pinches that made my head go loose on my shoulders, falling back against my desk chair.

"Bill," I sighed up at him, "I need to finish. What do you want?"

He looked down into my eyes, his own liquid with love and desire. "You," he said in his voice smooth like spring water spilling over stones.

I reached up and captured his face in my hands, drawing him down to my parted lips. In the time we've been together, I think I've had Bill in every way possible, and a few ways that shouldn't be possible, but I never got used to the feeling of kissing him upside down. His tongue curled against mine, like we were wrestling inside our mouths, and his lips snatched my bottom lip, sucking it in his mouth. His fangs were fully down for me, and he pierced my lip and drew in my blood. That made him groan into my mouth—he had always been wild for the taste of me.

I gave his ear a twist, making him grunt and pull away. His lovely sculpted brow knitted in consternation. "You are… rejecting me?" Bill's voice was edged with dejection. I had learned that my vampire was quick to assume unhappiness on my part and was easily hurt by it.

I returned my gaze to the screen, resting my hands back on the keyboard. I shrugged, "I need to finish this up and I'm not convinced that you can't wait."

Now this was a game we often played, dodging each other's advances to ramp up the sexual tension to almost unbearable levels. Bill had come to understand the game and was usually a willing player. For whatever reason tonight, his patience for play was short. I could feel his irritation though our blood connection and I'd bet his eyes were blazing as he growled, "Oh I can wait, darling, but you can't."

To show him he was wrong, I pushed my chair back enough to bump his belly, and he growled again. Score: Sookie 1, Bill 0.

As I resumed typing, Bill stood silently behind me; I could feel him plotting his next move, but I refused to acknowledge his presence.

Now I have to interrupt myself to explain that one of my very first experiences with Bill, many decades ago, was seeing the devastation he wrought on the trailer occupied by two drainers who had attacked him and later, attacked me for rescuing him from them. He had flipped over the trailer, crushing the drained drainers underneath, tearing up a few trees to disguise his murderous rage as a tornado. I told him back then that I wasn't prepared for the extent of his vampire strength.

So I should not have been surprised when Bill picked me up still in my chair, the wheels underneath spinning comically as he swept me downstairs. He dumped me out unceremoniously on the rug in front of the fire, and I plopped with a whoosh like air leaving a cushion.

For a split second, I was too stunned to form a thought. Then with vampire speed, I leapt up, my fists balled at my sides, a snarl on my face. Bill stood on the other side of my desk chair, his arms folded insouciantly across his powerful chest, giving me a dark-eyed stare.

Something about his casual certainty just got under my fingernails and I stormed around the chair and got right up in his face. "Bill, if _you_ had been working and I had picked you up and carried you downstairs and _dumped_ you on the carpet, would _you_ be in the mood?"

He grinned at me very slowly, so I had the chance to take in his fangs, before he ran his tongue along the tips of them.

I didn't know whether or not to be shocked or furious, so I went with furious. "That's _it!_" I hollered and grabbed Bill around his waist, hoisting his feet off the ground. At first, Bill was still and silent—I must have really surprised him (I occasionally threatened to pick him up, because he liked to pick me up and carry me around, but in deference to his old-fashioned sensibilities, I never made good on the threat.). But then he started laughing and pushing at my hold on his waist; he wasn't pushing all that hard or he could have likely ripped off my arms.

But then, as Bill realized I was walking him toward our room, he began to struggle in earnest. I took that as a sign that his sense of machismo was being violated (as I always tell my human assistant Tegen, the ERA came before the VRA…). But I was infuriated enough—and proud of myself enough—that his struggling wasn't gonna set him free.

"Honey, you will _not_ be getting away from _me,_" I told my twisting vampire through gritted teeth.

"Sookie!" Bill exclaimed. "SOOKIE!" He was practically shouting, and just as we reached the bed, he pushed hard enough on my arms that he hurt me and I let him go. With my vampire speed, I slammed the door with a bang, and jumped Bill while he was still bouncing on the mattress.

"You _hurt_ me!" I whined at Bill, forcing his shoulders down on the bed. Exactly as I'd hoped, he instantly looked concerned and glanced at my arms, shifting his focus; it was all the time I needed. I locked my thighs on his hips, balled his shirt in my hands and yanked.

Bill's shirt ripped up the side seams, exposing his gorgeous chest, and before he could gauge what was happening, I drove my mouth down on his flesh right below his collarbone, thrusting my fangs toward his thoracic artery (now, I knew from the couple of anatomy classes I'd taken for my psych degrees that this artery is under a fair amount of muscle—and Bill is pretty muscular, even though he's lean), biting deep and hard.

Bill yowled like a skinned cat when I tore his flesh; as he grabbed my shoulders and shoved me backwards, I was thinking I might have gone a tad too far. His mouth came down hard on mine, splitting my lip. He sucked in my blood and my tongue in one motion and I moaned—but I wasn't quite ready to give in.

I whipped my legs up, wrapping them tightly around his narrow waist, locking my ankles for together extra grip. At he same time, I flung my arms around his neck, linking my fingers together, and with a heave, flipped us off the bed. We landed on the floor with a thud that would have knocked the wind out of humans. Now I was on top, right where I wanted to be, and tangling my fingers in his thick, dark hair, I hauled his face up to mine, clamping my mouth on his and biting his tongue. I tried to swallow his blood and his tongue at the same time, and Bill gurgled a bit at that.

But instead of continuing to struggle, he went limp, falling back on the carpet like a wrung out washcloth.

Now it was my turn to be concerned. "Honey?" I leaned over him. "Bill? Baby?"

His eyes flew open and I knew I was in trouble in that split second before he heaved me up from the floor to the bed. He was on top of me in a vampire second, holding me down with his hands and body weight; there was no way I could move. So I started giggling.

Bill didn't look all that amused, so I grinned up at him and said, "Uncle?" His brow creased and he replied, "No. Sire."

That made me giggle more, my stomach jiggling against Bill's—_that_ made him laugh. And as he was laughing, he slowly lowered his face to mine and started kissing me. Real kisses. As only Bill can kiss.

Bill had taught me to kiss, really. And now that I knew more about his human life and his vampire existence both, his kissing was all the more surprising. He didn't kiss like a man who'd learned how 200 years ago. He kissed inventively, even imaginatively, putting his whole body into it. He used his lips and tongue to explore, rather than assault, and he varied his technique and pacing a lot, rarely sticking with one style for long. Even though I knew him thoroughly, I sometimes wondered who I was kissing, he could feel so different. He seemed different now.

My whole body rose to his kisses. I began to wiggle under him, wanting more. Bill pressed one of his legs down between mine and settled his hips, and his bulging jeans, between my parted thighs. His hips picked up the rhythm of his tongue, and I couldn't help it: I started panting for him.

Bill slid off to one side, propped up on an elbow. His free hand wandered down my body, pausing here and there for a tweak or a caress or a scratch or a rub, all of which had me quivering. He opened my jeans and slipped his cool hand inside my panties, and his cool fingers inside me. That made us both moan.

As he pushed his fingers in, he curled them to stroke my special spot and as he pulled them out, he drew across my nub, already swollen and super-sensitive. A fleeting thought zipped through my brain: how lucky was I that my first lover—Bill—knew all the right things to do, and that my eternal lover—okay, still Bill—knew all those same tricks. But the rhythm of Bill's hand was pushing all thoughts from my head.

I rolled toward him a little, so I could unzip his jeans and start pushing them down. He kicked his legs a little, to help, but his busy hand never stopped. "You aren't making this easy," I complained.

"Oh, it is _easy_ you want?" Bill said smoothly, arching one perfect eyebrow. He withdrew his hand, which made me try to snatch it back, but he proceeded to trail it up my stomach, making me shiver, and snake up under my shirt. His mouth followed along where his hand had been, until he was nuzzling my breasts through the fabric, then biting at my nipples and pulling at them with his teeth. His fangs were snagging a bit in the stretchy material of my bra. I was practically whimpering by now.

"Take them off," I said, meaning my clothes, his clothes—well, his shirt was mostly ripped anyway. Vamps are hard on their clothes. Each other's clothes.

Bill got up on his knees to shuck out of his pants, then leaned over to pull off mine, and I lifted up under him to lick his chest. He rumbled for me, a sound I'd always loved. He poised himself above me on straightened arms, looking down at me like I was the most delicious thing he could imagine—and I sincerely believe he thought I was—and said, "Open for me, darling."

Somehow, my urge to tease him was still winning over my desire for him, and I shook my head, clamping my legs together and folding my arms across my breasts. Bill made a sound of complete exasperation and moved to part my legs, but I flipped over on my stomach, pressing myself hard into the mattress.

Something about presenting him with my bottom made him change his tactics, and he sunk down next to me, trailing his fingertips ever so lightly up my spine and back down, across my rump and the backs of my thighs and back up again. By the time he was starting back down, I was whimpering for real, and he wiggled his long fingers in between my legs, rubbing them in and out. He eased on top of me, knowing by then he'd get no further argument, and I opened my legs for his entry.

He pressed in slowly and steadily until he was buried in me and still he pressed in; as he began backing out, I followed him to keep him inside, bringing us both up on our knees. I felt Bill adjust his angle a little, stroking just right to rub my sensitive spot inside. Two or three strokes had me gasping; seven or eight had me shaking; by a dozen or so I was ready to collapse, but Bill growled, "Don't move," and he hit hard, once, twice, and I flew over the edge, calling his name. He called mine in response and followed me over and down, pounding me into the mattress as he grunted his completion.

I shoved him enough to roll us onto our sides, snuggling back against him until there was no air space between us, then tried to get closer still. Bill threw an arm and a leg over me to pull me in closer and tighter. I "mmmm"ed my contentment, wiggling my butt like a happy puppy. He snuzzled into my hair until he found some skin and kissed me softly.

"Now sweetheart," Bill said, "what were you saying about needing to finish… something?"

I put all my love for him in my voice and said, "Seems like you took care of that for me." And even though I couldn't see his face, I could feel my vampire smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Here's a little vignette from the time period shortly after Rio and Eric have returned to the States from England; I can't possibly explain how this came out of watching a video of Doutzen Kroes (who _IS_ Rio) on the catwalk… something about the way her thigh muscles bounced then clenched at each step…

* * *

Eric walked into the house and lifted his face, inhaling. He couldn't catch her sea breeze scent, so he softly said, "Fairest?" He didn't get an answer, but as he was listening carefully, he caught the sound of heavy breathing out back. Raising an eyebrow in surprise, he walked through the large main room and looked out the French doors. His hands froze on the knobs at what he saw.

His beloved was on the patio, stark naked except for her ubiquitous cowboy boots, crouched with his sword poised above her head. As he watched in astonishment, she lunged, swinging the heavy blade, and her movement was graceful and powerful like a tigress. The muscles in her arms and thighs clenched smoothly, controlling her movements perfectly. Her golden skin had a sheen of sweat and her hair was twisted on top of her head held with what looked like… he couldn't help but smile… yellow #2 pencils.

He cracked open the doors as quietly as he could, but she stood to attention, turning to face him in one elegant move. When she saw his smile, his fangs down a little, she broke into a big grin. Then, as if caught in the act of something naughty, she bit her plump bottom lip and shuffled a foot. She looked at him sheepishly, holding out the weapon.

"Your sword came today," she said. "I unpacked it to make sure it was all right."

Eric stepped through the doors into the moist, calm night, stripping off his black tee shirt as he went. He shook back his gleaming gold hair and ignored her comment. Moving behind her, he reached around and clasped each of her slender wrists in his large hands. "If you had hit your opponent with that swing, you would not have incapacitated him; he could have come back at you." Eric swung her arms and the sword in a fast arc, following her lunge like a ballroom dancer. It was a slash with a stab at the finish, designed to cut deep and disembowel.

They stood up together as one, Rio saying, "I see," before spinning inside his arms to face him, dropping the sword with a clang.

Eric's eyes widened and he almost snarled, "You dropped my _sword!_" But Rio held him, stopping him from reaching, pressing her breasts to his muscled chest. "Oh Northman," she chided, her green eyes dancing, "I _made_ you that sword!" She was hot and damp and salty, and the press of her skin to his made him rumble low in his throat as he leaned down slightly to kiss her.

The kiss was slow and languorous; he explored her mouth with his tongue, before letting hers do the same to him. He drew back just enough to speak, "It is still very important to me: I won you with that sword. If you have dinged it, I shall have to punish you."

Rio tightened her arms around his smooth, hard back, pulling him even closer. She smiled into his eyes, saying, "Your logic is flawed, but I'm liking the sentiment." The look that came over her face was positively wicked as she leaned toward his ear. "Tell you what," she whispered, "let's fight for it."

Eric was startled, but she could feel his delight through their blood connection. He studied her face, his deep blue eyes sparkling. "You want to fight me," he stated. She nodded. "And the victor gets to…"

She nodded again, affirming, "Gets to punish the loser, yes."

His disengaged himself from her arms and went in the house. In a moment, he returned with a beautiful, very old-looking sword. He looked at her curiously: while he was gone, she'd donned his tee shirt, tying it in a tight knot between her breasts and rolling the sleeves up to her broad shoulders. He had heard of warrior women who strapped down their breasts with leather bands or lengths of fabric for fighting. He was aroused by the sight of her, tall, lean, and tanned, strands of her shimmering hair hanging loose, her breasts bound in his black shirt, her taut abdomen, narrow hips, and coltish legs naked but for her worn boots. He'd never known anyone—aside from himself—so comfortable in his own skin. Or _her skin_, as was fabulously obvious.

While he was admiring her, she had been gazing at the sword he held, her face rapt. "Oh Eric," she breathed, "It's extraordinary." He smiled at her appreciation, and held it out to her, "This is the sword my father gave me when I became a man."

She did not reach for it and shook her head, "Its magic is yours." He smiled broader, marveling at how perfect for him she was, before drawing himself up to full height, grasping the hilt of his sword in both hands, blade down. He bowed to her over it, his eyes never leaving hers.

She picked up the dropped sword and copied his movements exactly, returning his bow. The look on her face became very focused.

Eric stepped back in a crouch, raising the sword over his head; Rio had only a split second to wonder at his strength—the weapon was huge—before she leapt backwards from his lunge with a yelp. He was grinning maniacally, his eyes glittering, his fangs fully down. Okay, she thought, he was playing for real.

Her jump backwards had put her calves against a low stone wall that ran around two sides of the patio, connecting to a taller wall that blocked the driveway from the backyard. Without looking, she sprang to the low wall, and was running its length before he could blink. As he spun to follow her, she bounded like a deer onto the higher wall and dropped from sight to the other side. He jumped that wall in a vampire leap, landing almost silently next to his Corvette.

He couldn't see her, but smelled her crouched behind his car. He threatened, "Fairest, if my car gets scratched…" and she laughed, springing from behind the car and dancing away down the drive. He moved around it to pursue her, and realized she was getting close to the street, and she was not exactly dressed for it. He backed along the car and up to the wall where it connected to the house; now he was in a corner, his back protected.

Rio lowered her weapon and sauntered up the drive toward him, her hips swinging a bit, an evil grin curving her lips. He went into a crouch, anticipating her launch, but what he wasn't expecting was for her to leap at the drainpipe and the windowsill next to it. With a clatter and a scramble, she was on the roof. She was going to play like that, was she? He flew up to join her, and she exclaimed, "No fair! I can't fly!"

But that was a girl's game and he merely swung his weapon at her, testing. She jumped back, blocking his swing with a clang of her sword. But the momentum of his swing unbalanced her and her boots scrabbled on the roof tiles. She started to slide, her arms flying out, and he grabbed her, pulling her in hard for a kiss, but she bit his lip, drawing blood. His anger flared and she felt it, her eyes dilating to solid black. He growled, "You are not playing fairly, either, my beloved."

Rio showed no recognition of his words as she licked his blood from her lips. She launched off the roof, galloping into the backyard, and he leapt across the peak of the roof to follow her down. As he landed, she used the split second to dash in close, slicing with the point of the sword. He roared at the sting of the blade down his chest and he smelled his own blood.

Suddenly, he was a machine, slashing and swinging as he charged her, but to his amazement, she stood her ground, blocking his assault with surprising strength—he had only a second to think about all her fae power plus the recent addition of his blood to her system, before she dropped to the grass, thrusting upward. He felt the night air on his thigh, before he lunged at her, crying out, "My _favorite_ jeans!"

Rio laughed, tauntingly, ducking below his arm and hitting him hard across his back with the flat of her sword. He fell to the ground with a whomp, but was up again just as fast. Now there was a fierce set to his face and a feral gleam in his eyes. Rio knew she was in trouble, because she could feel his vampire determination harden until he was a mountain of stone, steel, diamonds.

This time when he came at her, he was completely silent, and all she could do was block his swings and lunges—there was no time for a rally to drive him back and she was losing ground, pressed backwards toward the hedge and fence at the back of the yard. She was panting heavily, wondering if she should draw any power from the earth, but his relentless assault blocked all thought from her head as she defended herself. With the deafening twang of metal on metal, their blades hit, slid along each other, and locked at the hilts, their hands and arms wedged between them, his warrior face in hers, her muscles trembling to hold him back.

His glowing eyes bored into hers and he hissed at her, "You will not win." A trickle of sweat ran down her temple and his eyes flicked away from hers; she shoved with all her might and to her total surprise, his boots slipped on the damp grass and he fell backwards. With a leap, she followed him down, using her own weight to drive him into the ground, her legs clamped along his sides, the blade of her sword under his chin.

She should have known she wouldn't win, because just as she pressed the blade against his throat, she felt his draw across her back right over her kidneys with such exquisite control that the slice barely cut her.

Her shock lost her the fight, because he flipped her down on the lawn, driving his mouth fast and hard on the cut across her back. She kicked her boots, trying to strike him, before she realized he was licking the wound, cleaning and healing it, and she relaxed. All the tension and fatigue drained out of her and she gave herself up to the cool, gentle rasping of his tongue.

The grass was cool and damp, the air heavy with Louisiana humidity, and Eric's long hair tickled her skin as he bent over her. She heard cicadas thrumming and then her vampire began to rumble for her. Well, she thought, even by losing, I win, and Eric read her emotions in the blood, because he kissed and licked his way up her spine, chuckling a little.

She stretched her arms out to her sides, and opened her legs a bit. He hovered over her, inhaling her heat. Then with delicate fingers, he brushed from the tops of her boots up the inside of her thighs, softly stroking her opening. She sighed, lifting her splendid rump up, encouraging him to touch her more and deeper. He needed no encouragement.

As his fingers slid lower to work her nub, he inserted his thumb, curling it forward to find her sensitive spot, massaging. Rio mmm'd her pleasure, rocking her hips a bit, indicating she wanted more. Eric leaned in close, kissing and nipping, and sucking the flesh stretched tight on her perfect bottom. Rio jerked and moaned when she felt his fangs grazing her skin and he responded by increasing the pressure of his fingers and thumb. She began ever so softly to singsong his name, something she had always done from the first time they'd had sex, and he could feel through their blood that she was building to her climax, when he…

… withdrew and stood up. For a second Rio was still and quiet, before she flipped over to look at him, her dismay almost comical on her face. Eric stretched his arms over his head, taking his time, feeling her eyes on the bulge in his jeans, before he said, to no one in particular, "It was a busy night; I think I'll take a shower." And he stepped in the house, his footsteps fading away.

Rio lay on the grass for a long moment, catching her breath. She sat up, pulling the pencils out of her hair, letting it tumble down her back. She twisted out of his shirt, then grabbed each boot in turn, yanking them off and dropping them in the grass. With the grace and silence of a cat, she oozed into the house and down the hall.

She heard the shower running, and the way the water splashed told her Eric was standing under it. There was no door on Eric Northman's gigantic bathroom, because a bathing room was all it was: there was no sink and no toilet; he simply didn't need them. The shower area was lined with large squares of marble and there were no ledges, doors or curtains. She stopped just inside the room, watching her gorgeous vampire standing, back to her with water running down his hair and skin, and steam curling up around his legs. It was a magnificent sight.

With all the stealth imbued by her fae heritage, she slipped up to his back, sliding her arms around him and down, circling his bountiful hardness with both hands. He rumbled and rocked his hips, murmuring, "What took you so long?"

Rio responded to his question with her hands, pulling his foreskin back and holding it tight, while the fingers of her other hand moved forward to drum and pluck and gently squeeze his sensitive head. "Hlin," he sighed, and she slipped around him, kneeling as she did. She nibbled him with her avid lips and pressed him with her tongue. "_Freya!_ Your mouth is hot," he gasped.

She sucked him in, moving her fingers to carefully tickle and bounce his balls, and he tangled his fingers in her hair. "Ah Fairest!" he cried as she increased the suction and speed of her sucking, taking him deeper with each stroke. She backed off him, using her hands to keep up the rhythm, nipping his thighs hard, then harder as he jerked. "Ooooh Northman," she crooned, "you are so hard. You are so big, Northman. I can't wait to feel you fill me up." He looked down at her, his eyes blazing, and he reached to pull her to her feet. But just as he lifted her up, she danced from under the water and snatched up a towel, wrapping herself. To his utter surprise, she started wringing out her hair, and with a smug look on her face, she said, "Oh sweetie, I'm sorry; did I interrupt your shower?"

The look Eric gave Rio was daggers, but she turned with insouciant slowness and sauntered from the room. With vampire speed, he twisted the water off and charged her, tackling her to the bed. He was soaking her, the towel, the bedding, and the rug, his hair plastered across his face as he fought the wet towel off her and flung it to the floor.

Rio was writhing under him, trying to escape, but he held her with his strong hands and his weight. She actually tried to knee him—which wasn't particularly smart—but all she got for her trouble was his mouth rammed on hers with tooth-cracking force—and _that_ wasn't smart either, because what _he_ got was a blistering sizzle of fairy light across his face and shoulders. He bellowed and snatched her wrists in his hands, but she burst into light, blinding him and scorching most of the hair off his chest. He leapt from the bed, holding his arms over his face to protect his eyes. He squinted at her, floating above the bed, streamers of white outlining her.

"Truce?" Eric asked, his eyes streaming pink vampire tears. Rio instantly extinguished her light, falling to the mattress and bouncing a bit. Eric approached cautiously, watching her face for any sign she might attack, but she lay still, a slow smile curving up the corners of her mouth. He could see that he'd bruised her lip: it was already a bit puffy. She smiled even more at the look of embarrassment on his face. "I've hurt you," he said, sitting next to her and gently touching her lip. She kissed his fingertip. Then she traced the fading pink mark on his chest that was all that was left from her sword cut, saying, "I heal almost as fast as you do. It'll be gone tomorrow."

"I want to kiss you _now_," Eric said looking at her mouth.

"Maybe if you're extra careful…" Rio offered.

"But I won," he was almost pouting. "I get to punish you."

"Well," Rio looked thoughtful, "you only have to be careful of my mouth." Then she opened her arms, inviting him to join her. "Besides," she said as he lowered himself to her, "don't you think we've punished each other enough for now?"

"We will see," Eric responded, and those were the last words spoken all night.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: this comes from my _Spilling the Charms_ notes; it was a self-indulgent rant that would have dragged down the story, so I couldn't use it. But I have spent too much time examining why I believe Bill and Sook _belong_ together—and therefore, Eric and Sook _don't_—to keep this bit of thinking a secret. I hope it fuels your own thinking about our favorite vampires…

* * *

"Did you love him?" Rio asked softly. Without my vampire hearing, I wouldn't have heard her.

We were down on the beach, walking along the edge of the water, which was cold, but seemed to revive her. She had told me she tired easily since the battle. Being outside, in wild places, helped her restore her balance. Fed the holes his tearing had left in her. Damn him to hell!

Well, I could hope.

I knew this conversation would come. I had considered a thousand ways to have it. None felt right. There was so much—and so little—to say. I was grateful for lifetimes in which to say it all. Maybe I just wanted to say it all to myself.

That seemed like a good a place as any, so I said, "The truth is, I don't know."

As I was learning with my daughter, she didn't jump right in with a protest, as I might have. She left a lot of air hanging in between us for me to fill.

"There is a lot I could say." I was hiding behind my psychologist's hat, pulling that imaginary brim right down over my eyes. "Perhaps if you tell me why you're asking I could edit…"

"Ah, Mab," Rio turned to me, putting her long slim fingers against my face, "don't edit. I'm asking because I _want_ to know. I want to know _you_. I want to know _him_. It isn't a need, a mandate, an edict. It's… exploring.

I'm trying to build a past for myself."

That made me angry still. I looked in her sea green eyes, feeling my own fill up hurt and sorrow. I knew so little about my daughter and she so little about me. Time for that to change.

I turned to look out to sea. The waves were dark and sparkling, like Bill's eyes. And then, I knew where to start.

"Before I can answer your question—or _explore_ it—I want to tell you about Bill.

"I was 25. I'd never been in love. Never had sex. My telepathy prevented all that. I was so very proud. And so very scared. Those two are a spiteful mix, I can tell you. I was determinedly human, even as I knew I'd never fit in with what I so resolutely concluded were my own kind. Now, I think I knew that I was other. But until The Great Revelation, I didn't know there was any 'other' to be.

"Bill broke through all that, like smashing ice on the surface of a pond, trying to get to what was below. And boy, did he! I couldn't see it then, but being with him felt natural. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I wanted to be with him in every way possible."

Rio smiled at me, her sweet, sweet smile. "Got your wish, _Mab._" She emphasized her nickname for me, because Mab was a fairy renowned for wish fulfillment.

"To use the vernacular, I was broken. Bill saw every chip, crack, fracture, missing piece, and loved me anyway. Didn't even want to—as he so painfully told me once—but simply couldn't help it. Human or supe, seems we don't pick who we love.

"Bill and I had so much unfinished business between us. Until that got resolved, I could play at loving Eric—hope for it, even—but I didn't have all of myself to offer. And he deserved nothing less.

"Eric was—is—so perfect. He needs to be with someone who is his equal. Not someone he is teaching, being _patient_ with."

"Are you saying you weren't good enough for him?"

"Well, that sounds harsh, but maybe. Actually, yes. He deserves _you._" Rio smiled again, and I could tell that idea pleased her. She lifted her chin with something akin to the family pride and said, "I think I _was_ made for him, in some ways."

My vamp nature kicked in, and I snapped, "You were _made_ when a great big gorgeous hunk of fairy magicked me into a fabulous fuck."

"Mmm," Rio responded, not irritated in the least. "I guess what I meant is that I was trained for Eric. Although our grandfather"—I flinched at the mention—"would not have seen it that way."

"What do you mean?" My curiosity got the better of me.

"A large part of my training was about everything other—actually, very little was about humans. I think our grandfather wanted me to know what the fae kingdom we would make together had to deal with…" She shook her head, as if she wanted to release some stale thoughts. "Grandfather admired Eric a great deal—he respected most those beings who could live such a long time in a rapidly changing world—he himself knew how very difficult that was.

"So he talked a lot about a this very old, very savvy vampire, not realizing how piqued my curiosity was. As I got older, and fulfilling my fate pressed in on me, I returned over and over again to those lessons about the great big vampire who could. I'd never met him, but he became my comfort. Eventually, he became my goal."

I found this idea very… Eric. I told my daughter so. I asked her why then she didn't head straight for Louisiana.

"Ha," Rio made a bitter sound. "Doesn't work like that. I can read fundamental forces and to a certain extent control them. It's different from reading—and finding—individuals. From reading thoughts and emotions.

"That's _your_ job."

It was my turn to "ha." My daughter was giving me a lot to consider about my own nature as fae, as human, and as vamp. But I wanted to honor her original question, so I reluctantly pulled myself back on track.

"Did Eric tell you he called me soon after you two got to Louisiana?"

"He said he was calling you. Asked if I wanted to say anything."

"I think he thought he was calling to thank me for sending his sword and to let me know it got to him okay.

"But he actually called to rub it in."

"Rub what in?"

"How happy he was. Is. How happy you make him."

"Well, Mab, I don't have to tell you that I don't _make_ him anything."

"Perhaps, But he _is_ happy. I can hear it in his voice. I saw it in him when you were here together."

"As sappy as it sounds, we complete each other."

"I think you two have a different form of what Bill and I have."

"Oh, Mab," Rio sighed, "I hope so. I want to be his forever."

That word made me raise my eyebrows in surprise. "You want him to turn you?"

"Oh." Rio actually looked confused, but it only lasted a split second. "I was thinking more that I would live a very long time, even without being entirely fae."

"I guess we'll find out," I mused.

"So what _did_ he say?"

I looked at her, puzzled. Rio clarified, "You said he called to tell you how happy he is."

"Well, you probably picked up on how we get under each other's skins? So you need to understand that he loves irritating me almost as much as he loves loving you." Rio snorted, but I forged on; I wanted her to know. "Rio, when he came to Cornwall—hoping, but not knowing if you'd show up here—he was fairly certain he'd lost you. You had told him you intended to bond with him, but then you ran from him." Rio opened her mouth to object, but I held up my hand to stop her.

"Someone as smart as you are should instantly see his situation clearly: he thought he loved me—or maybe he did love me, or maybe he thought he _should_ love me. We were blood-bonded and yet I had spent a long time running from him, rejecting him. Looking back, I was so mean to him. I had no idea what I was pushing away—he had always tried to take care of me, in his way, and I had no true appreciation for it. I simply lacked the life experiences and maturity to understand.

"And I had been so very badly hurt by another vampire; I didn't think I'd ever get over it. I wanted to love Eric, but I simply couldn't give myself over to him. I didn't think I could risk the pain of any more rejections. And back then, he was a manipulative rat bastard"—now it was Rio's turn to flinch—"I'm sorry, but it's so true! Vamps had only been recognized in human circles for a few short years, and he was making his way through a tricky, dangerous thicket of politics and business. The only time he showed me any consistent tenderness was when the witches spelled him into amnesia and he didn't remember his life.

"So I ran from him, hated the blood bond, fought against him in so many ways. And then I asked Bill to turn me. Over time, it overpowered the blood bond with Eric and he knew we were lost to each other. It was the ultimate running away. So when you, my _daughter,_ ran too, he was devastated. He thought silly Sookie was happening to him all over again.

"When he called me to say the sword was safe, he also called to say that he was glad I had never let him back in my life, because he understood now that I was not the Stackhouse woman he was destined for."

"That must have hurt," Rio observed without a trace of pity.

"There is a time it would have. But I thank god every day for Bill. I love him more than I ever loved the sun or food or coffee or the beating of my heart. If Eric believes you were destined for him, so I know without any doubts that I was destined for Bill.

"Bill and I have lots of flaws—and we have an eternity to work those through. It keeps us busy. It keeps us in love.

"I can't even find words to tell you how relieved I am that Eric has a chance to be so happy. Like I keep saying: he deserves it. And I did _not_ deserve him."

Rio hugged me then; the chilly waves lapped at our ankles.

"Thanks, Mab."

"What for?"

She gave me a big grin. "For _making_ me for Eric."

I shuddered just a bit and said, "For that we should likely thank Niall." And lost in our thoughts, arms around each other's waists, we crossed the beach to go home.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: I must rush in to say that these "chapters" are not (yet) intended to be stories; they don't have plots or lead anywhere. They are growing out of the notes I made when working on my SVM trilogy, and they seemed to want to be something more…

This one is an impression of Eric and Rio, from shortly after their bonding, once they have left England and gone to Louisiana; I don't know exactly where this came from: I was driving past a grove of huge willow oak trees and I had a flash of Rio sitting up in one of them, with her legs swinging, like a kid playing hide and seek…

* * *

"I _will_ find you, Fairest…" Eric murmured as he slipped noiselessly through the trees. "I am an excellent tracker."

Was that a whisper of a laugh he heard, high up in the branches? His head lifted and turned. There! Did he see… something… flitting up high? He eased closer to a large swamp oak with a huge trunk and spreading crown. A perfect place to hide. He paused silently, looking up through the leaves. There was just the faintest trembling of the leaves that wasn't caused by wind. A slow grin spread to his gorgeous mouth.

Eric flew off the ground with vampire force, crashing through the branches, scattering twigs and shards of bark. He came to a stop, floating in front of Rio.

She straddled a massive branch, her cowboy boots dangling to either side, swinging her feet like a little girl. Her shining hair was tied in a knot behind her neck, and her luscious lips curved in a smile.

"I found you!" Eric crowed.

"You move like a careless cow," she replied.

Eric arched one perfect dark-blond eyebrow at her. He drifted up close and leaned in for a kiss. Her lips clung to his, warm and soft. He nibbled her bottom lip and she swayed against him. He murmured into her mouth, "And you move like the love of my life."

She slowly leaned toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and sliding off the branch, she let him take her weight. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he spun slowly down until his feet bumped the ground. He flexed his knees, gently lowering Rio to the bed of moss and leaves at the base of the tree trunk.

She sank back with a sigh. Eric had learned in the time since their bonding that she was most relaxed when she was outdoors in a natural setting. If she was surrounded by earth, air, and water she literally glowed. She was glowing now.

He held himself above her on extended arms, memorizing her lovely face. He felt her love for him and her contentment through their blood bond, and he lowered himself down for another kiss.

Rio met him partway, her extraordinary muscular body lifting up to him like a snake. She captured his mouth with hers, flicking her tongue along his teeth to check for his fangs. That gesture had become a standard part of their kissing, and he liked it. Most beings he had kissed avoided his fangs, but Rio treated them as the natural—and to her, desirable—part of him that they were. There did not seem to be anything about his vampire nature that bothered her, and most of it she actually relished. They were perfectly matched in supernatural abilities, sexual energy, intolerance for bullshit, sense of adventure, and most of all, love. She continually fascinated him, and since her blood was quite literally intoxicating to him, he was addicted to her.

Their blood connection must have shown her his admiration, because she raised her hands to her hair, unknotting it and spreading it out around her head like a magical cloud of spun gold. He sighed too.

"Your eyes are glowing," Rio observed and his returned her gaze. "Yours are the color of the moss underneath you," he responded. As he watched, her eyes shaded to a dusty green, like the oak leaves. His own dilated in surprise. "How do you _do_ that?" he marveled. He was even more surprised when she stared at him intently, her look entering his head through his eyes. Her face became distant with concentration, and as he watched, her eyes became teal, turquoise, and finally, brilliant blue like his own eyes. They almost instantly reverted to her usual emerald green, but the shock had made him drop to the ground beside her.

"Oh no," Rio pouted, "come back." She tugged at his arms, trying to bring him over on top of her, but he didn't budge. She frowned a tiny bit and asked, "Did I scare you?"

Eric had to actually consider her question. "Truthfully?" he mused, "yes." She raised a hand to brush back his mane of hair where it fell across his face, and said with only the merest hint of sarcasm, "I frightened the big, powerful Viking?"

He relaxed beside her then; teasing was a more natural way of being with her; openness was still difficult for him. He used one long finger to trace the willful line of her jaw, trailing down her graceful neck, and across her collarbone to follow the opening of her denim shirt.

"I have never known anyone as powerful as me," Eric stated bluntly.

"Niall," was all she said.

"I knew him a long time, but I certainly didn't _know_ him," Eric's voice was flat and emotionless.

"Filipe," she said.

That made him pause. "Again, I am not certain I know him. But he is my King; his power over me is because I am his subject."

"Oh Northman," Rio chuckled, "just say it: you've never been with a _woman_ as powerful as you."

This was a subject guaranteed to get his hackles up—he had been human at a time when there were numerous revered goddesses, and he quickly grew resentful when she suggested that he had a misogynist streak. He had a loftiness to his voice when he said, "I have known _many_ powerful women."

Rio, in her usual cut-to-the-chase manner, decided to side-step the developing discussion and get back to the heart of his comment. "I frightened you because I am powerful."

Eric looked thoughtful. "You are powerful," he started, "in a very different way from my power. Yours is magical."

Rio's eyes widened and then she did something he rarely saw: she burst out laughing with belly shaking guffaws, sputtering and gasping, tears streaming down her cheeks. He couldn't help but laugh with her, even though her mirth confused him. "Your magic amuses you?" he asked.

Rio gulped to get her voice under control. "Northman," she said, still grinning broadly, "_you_ are the most magical creature I've ever had the pleasure to know."

He looked skeptical, so she continued, "You have no heartbeat, yet you love more fiercely than anyone; no brainwaves, yet you are a better thinker than anyone; you don't breathe, yet you can track a scent better than a hound dog. Your body has no electrical impulses, yet you move"—she ran a hand down his chest to cup the bulge in his groin—"and boy, do you move!—with strength and grace.

"You don't need to eat—it seems that everything runs right off the blood—or eliminate, and your come is pink and you cry bloodstained tears. You don't change or age or get sick.

And you think _I'm_ more magical than _you?_"

"Fairest, with you, I never know what to think."

Rio gave him a smoky look, saying, "Well, how's about we just don't do anymore thinking?" Then she rolled up against him, capturing his mouth and giving him a brain-frying kiss. It was one of those kisses with lots of lips and teeth and tongue and panting and pushing and sucking, and it went on for a while.

Eric drew back and looked deep into her eyes. She sensed a reticence in him, and it made her feel all gooey that this self-possessed being might possibly be shy with her. "Fairest?" he hesitated. "Eric," Rio responded—she called him by his name more often now, especially when she wanted him to know she was feeling their connection—"you can ask me anything, you know."

He smiled at her, the soft one he seemed to reserve just for her. "Would you sing for me?"

Her face lit up. Music was something that made her very happy, made her feel connected, made her magic flow. She lay back on the tree trunk, inviting him to rest his head on her shoulder. They shifted a bit until they found a comfortable position, and she began to hum. Eric shivered as the vibrations entered his head; her voice (and especially her singing voice) carried the sounds of wind and waves and the bubbling of volcanoes. It could be soothing or exciting or arousing, but it always drew him to a place inside himself that felt safe and complete.

Rio stroked his hair and ran her fingers around his ear. Her humming began to fall into a pattern that slowly evolved into a recognizable song: "You and I, tempted by the promise of a different life…" Her other hand was trailing up and down his arm where it lay across her. "Blind romance, there'll be no half measures given half a chance…" He raised his hand to unbutton her shirt, slipping his fingers inside against her smooth skin. "And it's written in my heart, so that everybody could see it…" Eric wondered why it always seemed when she sang, she was singing something meant only for him, and she must have felt his emotions through the blood bond, because her fingers came up to his mouth, knowing he'd give them a kiss. "And it's written in my soul—after all I still believe it…" His fingers slipped down to brush the underside of her breast, then travel down inside her shirt to the waistband of her jeans, tracing the denim back and forth across her flat, warm tummy. "I still believe after all the foolish things that we've been through…" Her voice broke a bit as he wiggled his fingers down inside her pants, brushing her soft curls. "I could always make a start on something new…" The words made Eric raise his face to hers, capturing her eyes with his, a skeptical question evident in his look. "But I will always be someone who's open to…" His fingers probed deeper, and he loved the heated look that came into her eyes. "…persuasion." Her voice trailed off.

Eric looked up at her. "Am I being persuasive?" He waggled his eyebrows, an action she had grown to love. It was so completely _him:_ funny and drop-dead serious at the same time.

"Depends," Rio murmured. "What are you trying to persuade me to do?"

"Fuck me," Eric whispered against her mouth.

Since Rio had been almost sitting up, with Eric laying against her shoulder, she only had to roll her hips to spill him off. She straddled him, holding his gaze until she was too close to see it. She pressed her tongue against his fangs, releasing a spurt of her blood into his mouth. He moaned at the raw, hot, tangy taste of it.

He swallowed and it set off sparkles inside him. They started somewhere just above his navel and just beneath his ribcage and ran out in rapid waves to the ends of his fingertips, making them tingle. There was an advertisement on human television from a long time ago—it had always made him laugh back then—he couldn't remember any longer what the consumable was, but there were ridiculous cartoon elves and whatever it was they made was "magically delicious." He no longer found that idea so absurd.

His erection was straining inside his jeans and his tongue was trying to see if she still had tonsils (now that _is_ absurd; do fairies even have tonsils?) and his fingers wrapped around the back of her long neck, underneath the waterfall of her hair, holding her plush lips to his.

One of many miraculous things about Rio was that she never wanted to get away from him. As close as he could hold her, she always wanted to be closer. In all his centuries of being, there had never been a human woman—or even a mostly human one (he briefly thought of Rio's mother)—who did not at some point fear him and want to escape him. It had made him sad and angry and he wound up killing many of them because he hated the way they made him feel. It was an indescribable joy to be able to relax around a female of any kind.

This particular one was humming against his mouth. He pulled back a little and said, "I want to lick your voice." He felt her lips curve up in a smile as she sang ever so softly, "You move in and out…" She kissed him. He sighed. "Sing into my mouth…" Eric murmured that he wanted to. "Out of all those kinds of people, you've got a face with a view…"

"And what is my face telling you, Fairest?"

A soft, sexy smile spread slowly over Rio's face. "That I've done too much singing solo and you're ready for a duet." Eric pressed her down on the moss and showed her how right she was.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: This is the last plot point developed in my notes that never made it into a part of my trilogy. I so much wanted to fit in this idea, but it never blended naturally with any story line. So while I'm not happy with this little impression as a piece of writing, I like what is going on with Bill; I had once thought he'd never let me go to this particular place, but he actually gave me the idea…

* * *

Sookie was feeling restless. Bill was away on business—far away in Japan. He had wanted her to come with him. See some of the places he loved to explore. But she had declined, making noises about working on her research. Really, she hadn't wanted to be away from Pen, she just couldn't say that to Bill. He knew anyway. He always knew.

Sookie lived her life around Bill. He lived his through her. They loved each other completely, but they certainly didn't see eye to eye about many things. After thirty-some years of being together, was her vampire need for independence finally kicking in? Was the life they shared drawing to a close?

Bill worried about that. Her continuing interest in Penrice Haines knackered him until he thought sometimes he'd explode.

His heart was a furnace for her. He burned hotter and more fiercely in love with her with each passing year. He knew she loved him—and respected him—but he had always feared she'd leave him. He was somewhat amazed she had stayed with him for so long. It had not been in her human nature (therefore would not be in her vampire nature) to _stick_. She liked to do what she wanted and liked others to do what she wanted, even though she often didn't always know what that meant. Bill had all the patience in the world for her because she was his one and only true love. He no longer had to search. Didn't want to or need to. But Sookie?

As a human, she had gone through multiple partners in just a couple of years. It was almost like once she'd discovered she _could_ have successful sex, she wanted to make up for lost time; there'd been two vampires, a were tiger, a fairy, and if she'd had the opportunity, her shifter boss and another couple of weres would have been added to the mix. Bill had patiently stood by, watching her "experiment" with love, hurting like he'd been flayed, but ever hopeful. His reward was her turning to him when she felt she'd lost everything, seeking his comfort and attention for eternity. He had willingly, even happily, brought her over, and when she had accepted his proposal of marriage, all his long, terrible existence seemed worth it.

And now she was restless.

Bill could feel her. She was pacing, in turmoil, self-absorbed, conflicted. If he could have gotten to her quickly, he knew he could once again head off this particular bout of unease in her. But she was five thousand miles and half a world away. There was no "getting to her quickly" to be done.

Besides, he had worked very hard to gain the confidence of these particular clients. They wanted him for this job and he wanted to do it. He would have to push himself, learn new things, and go to new places, and all these actions held appeal. He was torn yet again between life and love, suspended in that all-too familiar limbo of what he liked tug-of-warring with what he needed.

Bill was pacing too: his long legs swinging through each pendulum step with graceful deliberation, his soulful eyes downcast, his dark hair falling over his brow. He clenched and unclenched his fists, growing ever more agitated. He couldn't stay. He mustn't leave.

Bill ran his hands through his hair, tugging it, trying to pull the answers from his brain. Suddenly, his hands dropped to his side. His head came up. His eyes glittered with an animal light. He had the answer. He knew.

Could he do this thing? He never had. He knew all too well what it felt like, and he'd thought it was something he'd never subject her to. And yet. And yet…

Bill strode to the glass door, throwing it open to the balcony hanging on the side of the tall building. He liked having a room that faced west; it made him feel closer to her. Now, he stood in the soft night air, with the city lights twinkling and pulsing below, his ears catching snatches of conversation even this far above. He raised his gaze toward the horizon, scanning the clouds, memorizing their radiance. He would always want to remember the night when he first called his child.

Much like when he made her, he had to trust that his instincts were correct. He closed his eyes, and with them his human mind, allowing his vampire nature to spiral up from the ground to fill him. It felt… good.

Bill conjured up an image of his beloved. He studied the image, concentrating on bringing it into focus. Sharp. Sharper. He was dimly aware of a frigid calm spreading through him; he was as still and contained as a stone. He had never been so perfectly vampire. He could taste the memory of her sweet, salty blood like a snake sliding through him. A feeling was growing inside him, building in him until he thought his skin would split and shred off his frame. It was like his body was the lens focusing a laser made from pure energy, vibrating through him like harp strings twanging, tightening with the pull of metal on wood. If the feeling had words, they would be, _My Child_.

The words, the feeling—the calling—flew from him like an owl launching from a tree onto an unsuspecting mouse. Within seconds, he felt the impact, talons on quivering hot fur; it was… delightful.

Immediately he was flooded with confusion and fear. If _that_ feeling had words, they would be, _My Master?_

Bill brushed aside the bewilderment, focusing the lens of the calling on larger prey, sending the great gray wings soaring westward, commanding, _Come to me._

And again, within seconds, the response, flustered and disoriented: _you are… calling me?_

_This _he had felt before, _this_ he knew. He hated this undeniable summoning, yet there would be no disobeying. He had called her. She _would_ come.

_Come to me, Sookie._

He felt, almost as clearly as if he'd seen it, the stamping of a foot, the exasperated exhalation, the toss of a ponytail. He cleared all concern and hesitation from his mind, and with clarity that brooked no argument, repeated, _Come to me._

He waited, tense and expectant for all of ten seconds, twenty, before he knew in exactly the same way he knew he had no heartbeat that he'd be picking her up at the airport tomorrow night.

_888888888_

When she came off the plane, she was almost—but not quite—running. She flew into Bill's arms and the quaking tension that had pulled him these past hours relaxed and subsided. He covered her face, her eyelids and lips, her cheeks and neck, with hard, consuming kisses. He tasted her tears and licked them away, not caring if anyone saw. His hands tangled in her hair, then ran down her back, pulling her tight to him. His lips found hers and he kissed her. She sighed into his mouth, and their blood connection was flooded with relief, then calm, even serenity. As always, when they came together after a time apart, their love for each other was palpable.

Bill had known that their need would overwhelm them, so he had reserved a Japanese capsule room for them in the airport—clever Japanese—lest they take each other on the floor by the baggage claim. Really nothing more than a mattress stuffed into a closet, it was nevertheless all they needed, and within minutes of her arrival, Bill was claiming his wife with tongue, hands, cock, and fangs. She was air, water, life—quite literally blood—and he knew there would never be any regrets that he had called her to him.

In the aftermath—the sheets were a total loss—nestled together in the molded plastic box not much larger than the travel coffin she had flown in, Bill stroked Sookie's glowing body, observing, "Your skin is like something the English stir into their tea." He felt her smile against his chest before she propped up on an elbow to look at him.

Sookie stared long and deep into his eyes, probing their shared blood for answers before finally settling for words. "You called me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Bill reached up to trail a long finger down her cheek and jaw and neck, before answering, "Pen."

Sookie looked visibly shaken at that, but also oddly happy.

"You knew?"

Bill nodded, "My darling. My dearest darling. I cannot stop you from turning Pen. If you must, you will. But before you do, I needed to tell you how much I love you. How much you mean to me. How much our time together has meant to me."

"Oh Bill.. I…" But he put his fingers to her lips and shushed her.

"In your practice, you treat it, but you don't recognize it. You feel it, but you don't accept it—that protects you.

"But it won't always.

"Love between a vampire and a human is sanctioned addiction. Pen is already addicted to you and you are naturally flattered; many newer vampires fall into this pit. He will not love you, any more than a heroin addict loves the heroin. Pen loves how you make him feel. Did you not love how I made you feel? How Eric made you feel?

"_That_ is how Pen feels for you."

For long moments he thought she wouldn't reply; she seemed far away, lost in her thoughts. Had she heard him? Was she angry? All he felt was her turmoil.

But when she spoke, her voice was soft with love and understanding.

"I love you, Bill. I always will. But your sorrow has made a slave of me."

Bill flinched: his father had owned slaves. As a young boy, he had grown up with slaves and considered them a part of his family. It was only much, much later that he understood what it meant to be imprisoned by another, to never have the freedom to truly leave. That prison's name was Lorena, and his Sookie had freed him from those chains forever. Is it… was it possible he was doing the same thing to her?

Bill ducked his head into her shoulder. He did not want to see her eyes when he asked his next question. "When I called you, what did you feel?"

He felt the concentration in her body as she struggled to find words. He knew how impossible the feeling of being called by one's maker was to describe. It felt like the spider calling to the fly. Feeling the tangle of the web and wanting to be stuck, all the while wanting to get away.

Sookie's voice was barely audible, even right next to his ear. "Like stepping for a missing stair."

The silence built between them until it pushed him to his elbow to stare into her eyes, blue as midnight and full of starless darkness. His own eyes poured into hers and she made a soundless gasp, a sharp rising of her chest as the full force of his love hit her. She cupped his face in her cool hands and said, "Until I was in your arms, I felt I was falling forth forever blindly: couldn't grab hold of anything. Hating the sight of that empty air… empty until you filled my sight."

Like his life passing before his eyes, Bill saw Sookie as he'd first seen her, in her tight white tee shirt, her ponytail bouncing behind her as she vibrated with the excitement of meeting her first vampire: she was happy. To see _him_. She rescued him and almost died for him. He saved her, not because his queen had commanded it, but because he simply had to. After the death of her grandmother, she gave him her untouched body and he thought he would burst from the greatness of that gift. And when her human life betrayed her to the bottom of her spirit, she gave him her life, to make her over in his image, loving him and trusting him. Why wasn't it enough?

"I waited for you, Sookie."

"I know you did, Bill. And I love that you did that for me.

"But you are all I know."

Those words were wood piercing the long dead cavern of his chest.

"So you will leave me then." It was a statement.

"No, Bill."

He trembled with the strain to replay those words inside his head. Had he heard correctly? "No?" he whispered, afraid to speak any louder for fear he'd shout and bring airport security running.

Sookie kissed him, softly, tenderly, meltingly sweet. She murmered against his lips, "I may turn Pen. If not Pen, someone else. It is what vampires do. " Bill started to protest, but she cut him off: "Even _you_, Bill."

"But I will not leave you."

"And likely, I will not leave _you_."

Bill could not help glaring at her. "You expect me to tolerate a lover in your bed?"

"No, Bill," Sookie chided him, "but you know I always wanted a child…"

"You already have a child!" Bill exclaimed.

It took Sookie a long moment to even realize what he meant. "Rio doesn't feel like my child; she feels like my sister."

"Sookie, you're chickening out on me, aren't you?" Bill said, and even in the dark, he saw her eyes widen at his use of the somewhat modern expression of speech. While she struggled to marshal her argument, Bill quickly interjected, "At least—before making Pen your child—do something for me?"

Sookie almost brushed him off, saying, "Of course. What?"

"Talk to Rio. Before you turn Pen, tell Rio of your plan."

Sookie raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. "Why would I want to do that?"

"I just think she'd want to know of your urge to provide her with a brother."

Bill could feel Sookie's shock, before she snorted laughter through her nose. "Okay Bill, you got it," she chuckled.

Not allowing her to hear his sigh of relief, Bill pulled her into his arms and crushed her to him, knowing that—at least for now—he had won.

[2343]


End file.
